The woman as art

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I often regard an attractive woman as a work of art.

There’s a scene in Cashback where the young boy can stop time and admire the woman as he strips their clothes off then sketches them on his sketchbook then when he’s done, a few hours later, he carefully puts their clothes on so they never suspect a thing.

There’s a young girl outside my window.

She’s 23.

Her name is Alexandra, and she’s an actress and model.

She has a a cute stylish gray hat on with a single black bang around the base, something you would find in Justin Timberlake’s wardrobe.

Her breasts, are large, size D’s snugly fitting her black tank top shirt she’s wearing under a threaded multicolored grey sweater, again stylish, a collared thing with numerous 1″ round buttons all opened revealing her cleavage.

She has a necklace on, a long silverish thing which dip into her cleavage and hides something I can’t make out. I’m trying not to make it too obvious I am studying her and admiring what I am seeing, but it’s difficult as she is so thrillingly attractive.

She has a skort bottoms on, at first I was hoping it was a skirt and the bare legs would stretch all the way up in the hopes there was nothing on underneath, but alas, the skirt covers the shorts it hides underneath.

And then.. the shoes… this is where the record skips and the whole ensemble is thrown off by a ‘What the heck is she thinking?” as they are brown and beige checkered Van’s slip shoes that match absolutely nothing.

But that’s ok. As looking at her long black somewhat wavy hair, luscious lips and smoothly complected face, with eyebrows trimmed with a cute ‘v’ that so many women do nowadays as she chews on the edge of a nail in a sexy fashion with a hand that has a big huge turquoise ring on her ring finger.

It’s times like this I would stop time.

I’d walk out there. Remove her clothes. All of them, and gently place them on the table behind her.

I’d uncross her legs, and shift her position to where I am now sitting.

And for an hour or so I’d come back inside, play my game, and occasionally look over looking at a highly attractive woman who’s completely nude – frozen in space and time – in mid sentence talking to her cute girlfriend who’s still clothed.

If I had a camera I’d take photos.

The camera, for me, is my sketchpad….

I’d take pictures from my viewpoint inside the window. And from various locations outside, walking up to her from over the shoulder of a pedestrian. From the parking lot. From the barista’s perspective. And more.

Then I’d place her in the line at Starbuck’s. To anyone looking at the images, they’d not know time was stopped and she was placed there. They’d merely see an attractive woman standing in line without a lick of clothes on and no one paying her any attention.

I might pose her with her cell phone. Making it look like this was natural.

And then I might place her in various positions in and around Starbuck’s.

She’s the only one clothed where everyone else is not.

And then.

When I was done.

I’d carefully place her clothes back on her body.

Paying careful attention to getting her position and pose ‘just perfect’ to how it had been before.

I’d go back inside.

And resume time again.

I’d smile at her when she left.

And think about introducing myself.

But then again…..

And someday. I might share the pictures with a friend or two. And build a web site from it all, and make an income off it.

Or I might not. I might just keep the photos for myself and enjoy my own artwork.